Saturday, June 19, 2010

Timespanner visits Titirangi Village



Something I've been meaning to do since starting Timespanner back in '08 is to visit Titirangi Village (I called it Titirangi township, but was told by the proprietor of Gone West Books -- a nice bloke to have a bit of a yarn with on a Thursday afternoon with a wonderful if tempting bookstore -- said the locals prefer the term "village", so I stood corrected). I wasn't sure just what I could find there to put up on the blog, actually. Titirangi is your usual suburban service centre these days. Still, worth the look around while I was between appointments.


Poor Henry Atkinson. His statue struck me from this angle as having a most woebegone expression. From a booklet I helped put together earlier this year for the West Auckland Historical Society:

Born in 1838, Henry Atkinson served as an engineer for the Auckland Gas Company. On retirement, he bought land and built a homestead on South Titirangi Road (since demolished). A family holiday home he built in 1915 is still in existence. He donated part of his Waitakeres land to Auckland City Council.


Apparently, the statue originally stood on Mt. Atkinson, facing his former home, as he requested. But -- after vandals stole the nose, the statue was removed and relocated here, outside Lopdell House. It's been got at even here, so I understand. No wonder he's looking so sad. More info here and here.

Then, there's Lopdell House.


Again, from the booklet:
The “Hotel Titirangi” was completed in 1930 and opened by the Prime Minister, Gordon Coates on 20 November. It catered for 63 guests with fully carpeted rooms, drive-in garaging, and included a small shop, tea room and restaurant. The one main thing it lacked was a liquor license, which it was never granted. It continued with declining fortunes as a hotel until 1942 when it was sold to the Ministry of Education as a school for the deaf. In 1960 the building became a residential centre for teachers, and was renamed “Frank Lopdell House”, after a former Principal of Auckland Teachers College. It was bought by Waitemata City Council in 1983 to become an arts and cultural centre for West Auckland.



I did some research for WAHS' newsletter in April this year on  Lopdell House's designer, William Swanson Read Bloomfield, of the partnership (1929-1934) of Bloomfield, Owen and Morgan, who was the first known qualified architect practicing in New Zealand of Maori descent. He was the grandson of William Swanson and Ani Rangitunoa. Born in Gisborne, he studied in England, on the European Continent, and also the University of Pennsylvania, USA. During World War I he served as Captain in the Royal Flying Corps, 57 Squadron, and was shot down behind enemy lines in 1917, serving time as a prisoner of war in Germany until the end of hostilities. In November 1929, he married Rhoda Gribbin at Holy Trinity Church in Devonport. During the 1920s, he became a foundation member of the Auckland Aero Club.

He practiced in Auckland from the mid 1920s until his retirement in 1959, either in sole practice or with a number of partnerships.


In 1954, Home & Building published a brief biography on Bloomfield, in which it was stated he was “interested in early English and Chinese china, old Italian bronzes, and water colours.” An undated thesis of his still survives in the School of Architecture records: at the University of Auckland “The Structural Development of the Early Christian Basilica to Amiens Cathedral”.

His ashes were interned at Purewa Cemetery in 1969.





Can't forget Titirangi's sculpture, though.



From the booklet:
This is one of the Waitakere's distinctive landmarks and is perhaps one of our more controversial works of art. It was the winning concept in a competition for young design students. Artist Lisa Higgens enlarged her jewellery designs, inspired by lichen and algae, and these organic shapes evolved representing the regeneration of life. It was fashioned at Unitec.



But what of street art? Well, I found a bit up in the village proper.




The real gems I found, though, will have to be in the next post.

Out with the old, in with the new


Farewell, Tait-Trent Street Station, you have served us well.



On Sunday the 13th, with no trains on the Western Line, the entrances/exits to the two temporary platforms were removed. Soon, the platforms will disappear as well.


But the new station is quite cool. Sure, Crayford Street East is a bit of a climb when coming home from out of the city, but -- it has always been a climb. I guess the old road has become our new Station Hill. You can hardly call Rosebank Road leading up to Blockhouse Bay Road that anymore. And so, our history changes. That's Layard Street, stretching off to the right.


The platforms were still shut off on Sunday, so I ducked around via St Judes Street on my way up the hill. Was invited in for a coffee by Rev Bob Hornburg of St Judes, so had a cuppa and a bikkie with St Judes parishioners in the old hall there. Such mornings like that one -- is just one of the reasons why I love my home suburb of Avondale. (The reverend was in his flowing green robes at the time, the morning service having just come to an end, and I can still see him standing on the steps of the church, arms stretched, out making the invitation. It was almost like I'd come across a country church, all of a sudden ...)


Come Monday morning, and the new station is operational. This is a shot from the westbound platform (In was headed to Henderson and Mill Cottage) of the eastbound platform. Met up with another long-time Avondale resident who said the only thing amiss was that there was no nearby purpose-built carparking. He was right -- ARTA and Auckland City have yet to come to some agreement as to what and where they'll have as a parking area (park n' ride, or kiss n' ride).

Ah well, the powers-that-be will sort things out, hopefully, as the sun sinks slowly in the west ...

Friday, June 18, 2010

Auckland (War Memorial) Museum's blog

The museum seems to still want to move away from its roots and origins, so it would appear. They've launched a blog and nowhere does it refer to those two words in the brackets. Their copyright notice says "Auckland Museum" but their website does mention those words on the home page. Small lettering. Top left, on the links bar. And here, on their war memorial page.

I'll be visiting the museum tomorrow, hopefully. I felt somewhat disheartened last time I saw it, this past summer. It seemed to have lost its cool vibe. I'm hoping some of that has started to return.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

A brief history of Auckland's urban form

A brief history of Auckland's urban form (pdf file) is a publication from the Auckland Regional Council. Worth a look if you'd like to see how the region developed from the 1840s. From the site:
"'A brief history of Auckland’s urban form' outlines the development of Auckland’s urban form, from early colonial settlement to the modern Auckland metropolis. It is challenging to encapsulate the growth of a city this size in 26 pages, and so the report aims to capture the key relevant drivers behind the growth in suburbs - including infrastructure provision, State housing and in later decades, major planning decisions.

"A main feature of this report is the series of ‘growth maps’. The report is chronological in nature, and each section (with the exception of two time periods 1880-1899 and 1990-1999) includes a map that shows growth over time in the built-up areas, as well as the development of the rail and motorway systems. These maps replicate, and continue, a series of maps first included in a 1967 article by G. T. Bloomfield on ‘The Growth of Auckland 1840- 1966’."

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Avondale Community Centre mural




At 99 Rosebank Road, the Avondale Community Centre, built in 1990, is sporting a fine mural by Doug Ford on its southern flanks. It's been there for a while, painted within the last decade or so.


Tait Park revisited

Last year, I posted about Avondale's Tait Park, mainly due to the fact that the name of the park was nearly indecipherable on its sign, and seemed to be forgotten by some local residents.

Well, to my delight, I see that appearing before the Avondale Community Board, and writing a small history about the reserve, seems to have paid off.


As I said to one of the Avondale librarians today -- I'll go off and grizzle about something else, now ...

More Otahuhu heritage murals

Two more from the Otahuhu Historical Society's email newsletter Otahuhu Despatch. For earlier post, see here.


From  the May issue:
"This ...mural shows the staff of Andrew and Andrew leaving the premises in Great South Road, Otahuhu for a picnic at St Heliers Bay ...dating from 1909 [it] advertises Andrew and Andrew as commercial stables, livery and bait stables with buses, brakes and buggies on hire.

"In 1878 Frank Andrew moved to Otahuhu and set up the firm of F. Andrew and Sons, Seed, Grain and General Merchants and Omnibus Proprietors. This firm ran the first bus service between Otahuhu and Auckland and included a large stable of horses. Following the death of Frank Andrew in 1899 the business was split with one son, John W. Andrew going into partnership as Andrew and Lloyd and continuing the grain and produce business. In 1908 John shifted to Auckland and founded John W. Andrew and Sons, Auckland’s first Ford motor vehicle franchise holder. Two other sons, Fred and Bill, started operations in Otahuhu as Andrew and Andrew."



From the June issue:
"This second mural shows Alby Greenhalgh driving the Speedy van and dates from 1926. Albert, known as Alby to friends but always called Greenie by Mrs Andrew, worked as a driver. During his employment at Andrew and Andrew he was given a watch by Mrs Andrew that had the words “To Greenie from Mrs Andrew” engraved on the back.

"Later Alby became one of the brothers at Greenhalgh Bros. garage in the Great South Road. When he married Phyllis Mullins in 1955 he invited Mrs Andrew to the wedding at the Anglican Church in Mason Avenue, Otahuhu. She declined the invitation but asked him to introduce his new wife after the service as she lived only a few doors from the church. So, between the church and the reception at the Golden Glow in Avenue Road the newly weds were given the best wishes of Mrs Andrew on her veranda."

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

The new Avondale Train Station (officially) opens ...

... but not yet for passengers. Just invited guests yesterday, at a wee shindig courtesy of ARTA (Auckland Regional Transport Authority). Some songs from Avondale Primary School pupils were heard, we listened to speeches, drank coffees and teas, then got the heck off that cold, windy eastbound platform and into the snacks and nibbles (and tomato soup!) put on by ARTA at the school hall just down the road.

I must put in a WARNING here, for any readers who have concerns about images of spiders -- there is a spider image towards the end of this post. The spider being an icon of my home township, such couldn't be avoided, sorry.

Righto ...

The marquees go up on the platform, caterers move around to set up chairs, coffee/tea urns, sound systems etc. ...

... all on what has to be just about the narrowest space for any opening I've ever been to. There was good reason for the red safety barriers to keep us clear of the rails. If the drop didn't get you, the next train would.


This sort of thing fascinates me -- how they get cloths up for unveiling. In this case, a large black cloth (completed with red ribbon and bow) over the Avondale sign on the platform. Step one: get a helpful contractor to go up on the metal fence, and balance thereon, waiting helpfully to pull up the cloth from hands below.


There ya go ...

Almost there ...

The finished work, just before Mayor of Auckland City John Banks (that's him with his back to the camera) cuts the ribbon.


The bloke in front is Rabin Rabindran, chairman of the ARTA Board. John Banks at right.

The cutting ...

The pulling ...


More pulling ...


There you are! All done. They then had some of the children let off air horns, I suppose to represent trains (although one person there said it represented the sound of train horns keeping local residents awake at night ...)


Just to show you how narrow and tight the ceremonial space was -- here's one shot ...

Another with oncoming train for effect ... (at right, Chairman of Avondale Community Board Duncan Macdonald, and Councillor Noelene Raffills).


Yes, rather noisy for speeches ...


But all taken in good heart.


A special cake for the occasion was prepared (no, I don't know what it tasted like, I was more interested in the mini quiches).


The photo used on the icing is of the temporary station at Trent-Tait Streets which will be replaced by the new station we shivered on yesterday -- from next Monday (the 14th). My thanks to the Avondale Business Association for passing on word, and an invitation, to yesterday's event.

More on the event via the NZ Herald today.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

To the streets, perambulators!

Image from Wiki.

We used to have a set of regulations called the Municipal Police Act which determine all sorts of things the public couldn't do in the early city of Auckland. One such thing was the pushing of perambulators, those handy conveyors of mere babies, upon the footpaths of the town. This from the Southern Cross, 26 January 1871.
During the very hot weather which has existed for some time past, a practice has become so common that there is a likelihood that the rough hand of the policeman will have to put a stop to it. Many people have made complaints to the police owing to the way the footpaths in our principal thoroughfares are crowded in the busiest part of the day with perambulators containing babies. The Municipal Police Act makes such practice a punishable offence by imposing a fine of £10 and coats, or an alternative of three months' imprisonment. The following is the wording of sub-section 3 of section sof the Act : — " Leading or riding any horse or other animal, or drawing, wheeling, or driving any cart, carriage, sledge, truck, harrow, or other thing, upon any footpath," shall be liable to the above punishment. It may not be generally known that the Act in question gives any constable, with or without a warrant, power to arrest any person offending against the above clause. It has been owing to the forbearance of the police that arrests have not been made hitherto. Nurses and servant-girls, and even mothers going out with perambulators, should keep the above clause before their eyes, if appearing at the Police Court, with baby and perambulator, to answer a charge of a breach of the municipal law be a matter which has any terrors for them.

The patience of the editors at the Southern Cross seemed to become more strained as the year wore on. This from 29 November 1871.
Perambulators are becoming a great nuisance in our thoroughfares, and should, we think, be subject to such police regulations as would prohibit them from being nurserymaided through the public streets, excepting only between the hours of twelve o'clock at night and six in the morning. The highest medical authorities state that if parents desire to forward their children to another world, without incurring a charge of wilful murder or manslaughter, they cannot do better than send one or more out in a perambulator in charge of a girl who is fond of stopping and talking to her sweetheart, or looking into drapers' shop windows. On hot days, with the sun's rays striking down fiercely, children get brain disease and die suddenly. In cold weather their blood becomes chilled, and they go into consumption. It stands to reason that the former method is the quicker and more economical way of disposing of them. The latter is a tedious and costly process.

Then, matters seemed to come to a head in 1873. This from the Southern Cross, 25 June 1873:


Two nursemaids were summoned for wheeling perambulators on the footpath in Queen-street. Both defendants were dismissed with a caution; but Dr. Nicholson expressed a hope that the reporters would make public the fact that the act complained of was an infringement of the by-laws of the city.
What sparked my interest in mid-Victorian era personal transport for infants? Well, it seems the above case led to a correspondent sending a letter to the Auckland Evening Star, berating the members of the Auckland City Council, which the editors there duly published on 4 July 1873:


"Sir,
"In crowded towns and cities in England, such as Liverpool and London, where servants are easily obtainable at a low rate of wages, perambulators are allowed in their proper place, i.e., on the footpath, out of danger; but in a village like Auckland a lady who cannot get a decent servant for love or money, and who has to wheel her own perambulator, is driven into the dirty road amongst the horses and carts, to the great danger of herself and child. What can be more absurd than for beings calling themselves business men to fool away their time and annoy the public by passing such ridiculous laws. Should any life be lost or accident happen (and it cannot be long before we hear of something of the kind), the blame will rest with the city Tom Noddies whose mean and cowardly ideas have prompted them to pass a regulation oppressive and dangerous to the weaker sex and their offspring.
I am, &c., Toby."
The Star took up the cause, in a way which might well get similarly ardent newspaper proprietors sued  (at least!) these days ...


We very cordially endorse the sentiments of the foregoing letter. The resentment of the City Council against the sweet little innocents that nestle so cosily in their perambulators would be to us unaccountable did we not know that of the City Council no less than four members have not been so far blessed by nature as to know the sweet and tender emotions of a father's love. Dried sticks are they that are bereft of the milk of human kindness, and know not what it is to dandle a little cherub, their own flesh and blood, upon their knee, or imprint the kiss of fond parental tenderness upon its little cherry lips. Human ogres are they that know not the tender gushings of the heart at seeing the little chubby arms extended, and the little face lit up with glee to greet "papa." They would drive the little dears into the street, they would, the brutes; to bge trampled upon and run over by careering cabbies and rabid butcher boys, and Mrs Ryan's cows.

In the name of every thing that is parental in the city we protest against this majority of the City Council who have themselves done nothing to fulfill the great intent of nature by increasing and multiplying and replenishing the colony presuming to expose to certain death the innocent offspring of their betters. We can picture to ourselves the scowl of disappointed spleen of this impotent and unnatural majority as they behold these momentoes of conjugal affection paraded before their eyes. Why instead of the little darlings doing any harm as they roll along in their little carriages, they exercise, we believe, a great moral influence; and we can hardly understand how any man rushing along the Queen-street pavement, his mind pregnant with some great villainy in mining or other departments of swindling, could gaze on the little innocent faces without being stung by conscience.

Then, out of the road, ye barren and unprofitable City Councillors! and make way for the perambulators. They are the symbols of progress, and their little occupants will yet rule the land when you, ye dried up sticks -- ye barren fig trees -- ye unprofitable colonists -- will have crossed the Styx, leaving neither footprints on the sands of time, nor one to bear your name, going, as ye deserve, away down, down,

Down to the earth from whence you sprung,
Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung.

Well, I'm not certain when the regulation barring perambulators from Auckland's footpaths was finally consigned to history (although I do wish some of the pushers today would pay more heed to other users of the same carriageways), but the Star attracted a few grateful fans for their stand on the issue back then. This from 8 July 1873.


We really must protest. We cannot do it, and we will not do it. Half the mothers of the city want to kiss us for having defended their little darlings and their perambulators from the City Council. We never kiss now, gave it over long ago; and we declare if we are bothered any more about this we will tell their husbands. We give positive warning. Let no deputation come here. We won't see it, we shall not be at home. Let the deputation spoken of wait on the City Council, and expend their caresses on the unhappy four. Visit them not in anger, but in love, in compassion, and in tenderness. Judge them not harshly. They are not unsusceptible to the sweet and melting influence of female loveliness. We know they are not, some of them especially. Try them. We bet they will kiss, and won't tell. But we warn the deputation to keep away from this, for we won't kiss, and we shall certainly tell.